ID: A drawing of Vriska Serket from homestuck on a blue background, looking towards the viewer with one hand on her hip and her robotic one extended. Off to the side is a smaller drawing of her in profile. She’s smiling in both. end id
A blind stranger saves Vriska's life on a snowy winter night, then won't leave her alone. She claims to be her guardian angel; whether she's lying or not, her dedication to the bit has Vriska strangely convinced.
Ka-ching!
Vriska finds that her debit swipes into the self checkout reader just as easily without money as it does with. Her phone vibrates immediately with a notification from her bank, but she does not wait for a receipt to print. She grabs her bag and begins to powerwalk to the front door, past the greeter, and into the frosty winter air outside. She hears a voice shout behind her, and is tackled hard onto the ground.
Vriska’s glasses bounce onto the pavement and crack. A car rushing by throws up black slush over her face and hair, and the melt seeps into her clothes. Fallen snowflakes, heavy and wet, immediately begin piling on top of her body. The stench of car exhaust is overpowered by the aroma of blood as it begins to well in her mouth from somewhere; she's both too sore and too disoriented to identify where.
Seconds, maybe even minutes pass by, before Vriska has wrapped her hand back around the handle of her bag, dragged her glasses closer, and rotated to sit up. She looks at the fallen body of the person who tackled her–not an employee, or at least, not in uniform. Perhaps she's one of their undercover theft prevention crew. Her black hair is cut short, the ends curly and frayed. The falling snowflakes are caught up in it like a nest. She starts pushing herself up, and her blank eyes sear into Vriska in a way that makes her incredibly uncomfortable.
“What the fuck is your problem!" Vriska shrieks when she finally finds her voice. She drags herself to her feet, and starts trying to wipe dirty snow off of her clothes.
"Watch where you're going next time you ignoramus. That car would have hit you,” the blind girl replies.
"As if you could tell,” Vrisks retorts, waving her hand angrily and excessively in front of the girl’s eyes.
"You'd be surprised to know what I can see, actually.” She pauses, then adds on a "jackass” before collecting her cane and rising to her feet.
Vriska catches a glimpse of one of the store employees through the glass door with a phone to their ear, and decides to bite back her next retort. She spits the blood in her mouth out onto the ground, turns around, and begins fleeing the scene once again.
She makes it a good couple blocks down to the bus stop before she finally stops. Beneath the snow-covered awning, Vriska takes a minute to sit down on the dry bench and give herself a once over. She bit the shit out of her tongue, scraped her knees, ripped her pants, but in all was mostly unharmed. Of course, anything is going to make her sour mood worse.
The girl from earlier sits down beside her, staring silently at the road. Vriska leans back and stares forward too, wearing a scowl.
“Assault and stalking?” Vriska says.
"Yeah, I'm considering rounding it out with homicide,” she grins in response.
"Couldn't let the car kill me? You gotta do it yourself?”
"Maybe you wouldn't have died, and instead been maimed so badly I'd feel guilty for killing you.”
"Damn, you should have let that happen. Someone's gotta pay my bills,” Vriska chuckles, and folds her hands on her lap.
"That's why I'm not interested in your death,” the blind girl starts. "You are so pathetic, you're worthless.”
"Who the fuck are you to judge me, anyway?”
"Terezi Pyrope. Judger of souls, weigher of sins, the scales of justice.” Terezi tilts her gaze up to the spider webs in the rafters of the bus stop roof.
"Yeah, me too. I do all of that, too; why are you so special?”
Terezi slides a small business card out of her pocket and into Vriska’s hand. It's pearly white and slightly iridescent, with teal gel pen handwriting that is absolutely illegible.
"So you're a kindergarten teacher, and this is your worst student’s work.”
"No, that's my fucking business card you insolent cunt. Must every sentence out of your mouth be an insult? Because you are not making a strong case for yourself!” Terezi replies.
"We're not in court. We're sitting at a bus stop,” Vriska starts. She turns to look directly at Terezi’s face; her features are soft and round, plump even. A few stray hairs are scattered around her jawline and upper lip, thick and curled. "There's a small wooden roof above us with slate tiles coated in piling snow. There's a decade’s worth of spiderwebs strung along the rafters, black with dust. In front of us the sidewalk is crumbling from overuse without maintenance, and the road is white from an undisturbed layer of snow. We're sitting on an iron bench, a dark rusty gray, with the stop number engraved on the back.”
Terezi sits in the silence of it all, even as Vriska stops speaking. They hear cars driving on the main road in the distance, and the tiny crunch of a squirrel digging under the snow for nuts. Vriska drops her gaze down to her hands, where she can see her skin through the threads of the fingertips.
"So that car killed me, huh,” Vriska says. "And you're St. Peter judging whether I get into heaven.”
"One of those statements is false,” Terezi responds.
"God I hope it's the first one, then,” Vrisks says without missing a beat. She straightens her posture a bit. "But I have no fucking clue why you'd be judging me now if that were the case. So I'm dead, and what are you, my personalized devil?”
“No, you had it. I actually did save your life, you're fucking welcome," Terezi says.
“Then what are you doing here? This seems a little more guardian angely and a little less judged by gody."
“Eh, that's as much information as I'm going to divulge,” Terezi says with a smug grin, folds her hands behind her head, and leans back. "Wanna explain to me why you were shoplifting?”
"I owe you as much explanation as I owe that greedy corporate shitbag money. Which is to say, none!”
"Which is to say, like, 42 dollars worth. What did you even take?” Terezi asks.
"Come on, angel. Divine it. You could see a car coming but not what's inside my bag?” Vriska retorts.
“I could sense that your life was in imminent danger. I cannot sense your purchasing habits," she responds.
“It's just, some stuff. Y'know, essentials. Shit you can't live without, like food and toilet paper," Vriska mutters.
“I can live without food and toilet paper," Terezi points out smugly.
“Jackass, a normal person couldn't live without."
“And the only thing inside your bag is $42 worth of ramen noodles and toilet paper?"
Vriska frowns, but her silence is all too telling. Terezi reaches over without warning, shoves her hand into the shopping bag, and starts to rummage around. Vriska immediately wrenches it away and grabs her wrist, but the expression on her face is unchanged.
"It's a cute dress, and it doesn't count toward our discussion if I didn't even scan it to begin with,” Vriska finally relents.
"No no, it counts. It is definitely still stealing.”
"Whatever. I don't give a shit about God’s judgement of my mistreatment of the corporate whatever I don't even know why I'm humoring all of this bullshit it's obviously bullshit.” Vriska’s rambling quiets down to a disconcerted mumbling. She stands up, bag looped around her arm, and leans on the far wall of the bus stop enclosure. Her arms crossed and a scowl on her face, she looks down at her phone to check the time.
"Where is this fucking bus?” Vriska curses.
"Does this bus stop even get used during weather? If the roads are covered in snow like you said… What time even is it?"
“8:42," Vriska responds. She immediately catches herself and frowns harder.
“And when does the route schedule say the next pickup for this stop is?" Terezi prompts.
Vriska glances at the back wall. She was late for the 8:30 pickup because someone threw her on the wet ground, so the next one isn't until 9.
“Assuming it's not delayed by the snowfall," Terezi adds after Vriska’s silence. “Definitely not healthy for you to be out in the cold for that long."
“Oh yeah? Did God give you money for a taxi, blind girl?" Vriska snaps.
“How far away do you live? You're probably faster on foot," Terezi says. Her expression does not hold any warmth, and her tone is transactional.
"Hm, I actually think I broke my ankle being nearly hit by a car earlier,” Vriska replies sarcastically. "I am not spending the next hour walking in a foot of snow, especially not in wet jeans and a flannel,” she adds much more seriously.
"Then maybe consider walking to an open business with a bus stop outside,” Terezi offers.
“Can't, stole from ‘em," Vriska states. She sits back down on the bench and crosses her arms. “Just gotta wait."
Without permission, Terezi puts her arm around Vriska’s shoulders, coat unzipped so it wraps around her too. She drapes her legs over Vriska’s lap and leans in close, until the soft hair pushed up from her forehead tickles Vriska’s jaw. Serket opens her mouth to argue, tenses her muscles to fight, but finds herself melting into the embrace involuntarily and decides to shut her yap.
She leans in, snaking her arms around Terezi’s waist and letting her frosty cheek press into her hair. Vriska sits like this in silence for several minutes, until the quivering in her body finally calms down and she can feel the tip of her nose tickled by Pyrope’s hair.
“What are you?" she asks.
"A lesbian,” Terezi responds.
"Not what I meant,” Vriska growls.
“I failed at my job. I've been cast out and given a significantly shitter, more difficult job to redeem myself. I am supposed to be the scales of justice; I slipped up and let an single emotion affect one decision, and I've been banished. To return to my proper place, I must act as guardian angel to a selected person who is shitty, rude, and bad. Someone who is on course to go straight to hell with no chance at redemption… and I am supposed to silently guide them to the path of light, so that they may pass their trial when it is their turn on the stand."
“You better have proof you're a fucking angel, or you just called me the shittiest bitch alive for no fucking reason," Vrisks says firmly.
“What could I do to prove it to you?" Terezi asks calmly.
“I dunno, show me your wings or your halo? Use an angel beam? Fly? Give me a direct line to speak with God?"
“I can't do any of that right now,” Terezi responds.
"What can you do?” Vriska demands.
"I can smell the color of the blood beneath your skin,” she offers. "I can hear the exact moment that you will die,” she adds.
"When do I die?”
"At 3:03AM, you fall asleep on this bench and freeze to death before the sun rises.”
Vriska shivers, and Terezi squeezes tighter.
"Do you see how to avoid this from happening?”
"No,” Terezi states. "I don't see anything. But it stands to reason, you need to get inside.”
"And you think I'll live through an hour hike in the piling snow?” Vriska asks incredulously.
"You're going to call a taxi,” Terezi responds. "You stole from the store, I know you can just not pay for the ride.”
"I thought you were supposed to be my moral compass now to make me a good person,” Vriska teases, pulling out her phone. At least with the fingertips of her knit gloves being threadbare, she doesn't need to remove them to utilize her touch screen.
"There is no moral high ground to dying cold and alone on a public bench,” Terezi says.
"I agree. My life is more valuable than money,” Vriska nods.
The pair fall into an awkward silence after Vriska gets off the phone with the local taxi service. Terezi peels herself away eventually, and the two sit side by side in silence while they await their ride. Vriska contemplates whether she believes this lunatic story this lesbian is throwing at her; she doesn't, but she sure was quick to believe Terezi at the mental image of herself curled up and lifeless. She certainly doesn't look angelic; she looks like a mess. For all Vriska knows, Terezi could literally be someone having some crazy delusion right now, and she's just feeding into it.
Yet, Vriska doesn't stop her from getting into the taxi cab. She lets her knee lean onto hers as they sit side by side in the back seat. And when the driver drops them off down the street from Vriska’s apartment, she gently tugs Terezi’s arm to lead her in the right direction.
Vriska looks down to see a single set of tracks left in the snow, and the grip on Terezi’s arm tightens. She drags her up the flight of salted steps to her door and unlocks it, letting this stranger into her home.
Vriska’s one bedroom apartment is clutter. She's the kind of person who has stuff and likes stuff, and is not living in a space that has room for stuff. Her dining room table is covered in a mishmash of DIY projects and unfolded laundry and dirty dishes. Her couch has one cleared seat. Her computer desk looks surprisingly tidy, until one glances at the shelves beneath and around it. Vriska immediately steps into her bedroom to crank up her space heater and to fish out a set of dry clothes to change into.
Terezi seats herself on the couch, waiting patiently until Vriska finally steps out wearing a set of flannel pajamas.
“Um, you eat?" she asks awkwardly.
“I can eat your food for pleasure, but not for sustenance."
Vriska stares back at Terezi, and then decides to prepare her ramen for herself and not to share, since the option presented itself. She rests two mugs on the coffee table and sits down on a pile of t-shirts. Vriska holds her ramen cup close to her face and piles noodles into her mouth ravenously with a fork.
“Mug of hot chocolate for you," she says between bites.
Terezi leans forward and reaches out, feeling around the coffee table until she locates a mug. She inhales deeply before taking a sip, then sets it back down. She clicks her tongue, then reaches for it again–this time taking the other mug–and proceeds to chug it. Vriska rolls her eyes, unsure of what she expected putting her own drink in front a blind woman.
Vriska sets down her empty noodle container and uses her clean sleeve to wipe her face off. She debates drinking after Terezi, before deciding it's not weird or even remotely intimate to put her mouth over a non-person’s lipstick stains. She proceeds to leave the dishes on the table and leans back, scooting them to the side with her feet as she props them up.
"You would benefit from using some of that bitching energy towards cleaning your apartment," Terezi says, breaking the silence.
“I'll clean it whenever I have a hot date," Vriska shrugs. “A hot date who doesn't have a bigger or cleaner apartment already, that is."
“Oh, am I not hot enough for you?" Terezi teases. She rotates, leaning most of her weight into one hip so she can be facing Vriska more directly.
“This definitely isn't a date," Vriska says firmly.
“But you do find me hot!"
“Have you seen the men I've let touch me?" Vriska retorts. She bites her lip the instant she realizes she's only owning herself.
“Thankfully I've never seen a man, and I never will."
“God I wish that were me. I wish I could be a carefree lesbian like you," Vriska sighs.
“I would not describe myself as carefree. In fact, given my current predicament, I am experiencing a constant general anxiety, intensified every second I spend not coaching you into a saint," Terezi says. “Wait, why can't you be a lesbian?"
“It's…not allowed?" A weak argument. “Because I have to be attracted to men?" A little better.
“ Are you attracted to men?" Terezi asks plainly.
“Sure. I've dated and slept with, like, several."
“What do you like about boys, Vriska?"
“They're men. They always want to have sex, except for the sometimes when I want to have sex. They have hair in places, that's hot. Uhhhhhhhh…"
“What do you like about women, Vriska?"
“They’re so pretty, and have much more interesting hobbies. I dated a guy who studied military history, but I knew a girl who went into abandoned buildings and old temples for fun. Also, girls are so much more relatable like, emotionally and stuff."
“So why can't you be a lesbian?" Terezi asks.
“I can't. Like I said, not allowed," Vriska says as the joy seeps from her face.
“Why aren't you allowed?" Terezi asks again.
“Well, cuz… I'm not… Do you know what transgender is?” Vriska mumbles.
"Yes, I know what transgender is. So you're a man?” Terezi asks. Her expression doesn't denote any malice, else Vriska would have ended the conversation right there.
"No. I'm a girl, I'm a trans girl. I can't be a lesbian because I'm trans, I have to like men to… be a girl.” The growing quiet in Vriska’s voice is evidence that she too realizes how stupid she sounds.
"So you're a trans girl lesbian,” Terezi states plainly. "You're welcome.”
Vriska doesn't offer a thanks, or even a response. She stands up slowly and begins collecting the dishes around her living room, mulling over the realization in silence. Fighting between keeping her emotions in check and letting a little joy seep through to her core. When she dumps everything into the sink, she's decided she deserves a little joy after all.
"I'm going to bed," Vriska says in passing as she goes to her bedroom. Terezi turns her head to follow Vriska’s footsteps, but doesn't rise from the couch immediately.
Vriska slides into bed in the dark, curling up with her privacy and folding her hands beneath her head. Her thoughts chain, one after the other, until they're racing through her head. She's a lesbian. She's a girl. Her past, and her journey. The growing noise in her mind suddenly stills into silence, and she looks at Terezi standing at the foot of her bed.
“Excuse me," Vriska says, yawning.
“An eternal being does not waste time on sleep," Terezi states knowingly.
“But you can't creep at the foot of my bed and stare at me," Vriska says.
“It is in my–and by extension, YOUR–best interest that I keep a watchful eye over you at all times."
“So lay down in bed with me," Vriska offers. "Freak.”
"Look at your filthy apartment and call me the freak,” Terezi chuckles. She does ultimately decide to lay down in bed, tucking herself underneath the same blanket Vriska is using.
"Sorry, what happened to blind justice? You can't see shit!”
"Well I'm blindly judging you. This place reeks. Don't you know you're supposed to tidy up before bringing cute girls over?” Terezi says.
"And I will tidy up before I invite over a cute girl,” Vriska retorts.
"So what am I? Think hard before calling me ugly.”
"You're an angel,” Vriska states. She rolls over, now facing Terezi; her knees touch her thighs, and her hand rests onto her shoulder. "Not the same category.”
"Angel is not it's own gender,” Terezi starts, but seemingly changes her mind. "You're sleeping with me.”
“Sure, I'll sleep with an angel. I didn't invite you over, though. It doesn't count if you're literally haunting me."
“I wouldn't call it haunting! I'm protecting you from all that would wish you harm, including yourself," Terezi says.
“Oh, so you're mommying me," Vriska teases.
"Don't,” Terezi starts. "Don't you fucking dare. I do NOT trust you to call me Mommy in a way that God would appreciate.”
"Awwwwwwww, mommy! Does it bother you when I say that?” Vriska giggles. She leans her lips against Terezi’s ear and whispers. "Do you like being called mommy?”
"Nope, definitely not,” Terezi shivers. She doesn't move away.
“What if I called you daddy?" Vriska whispers, but this time Terezi resorts to violence and brings her hand down across Serket’s cheek. Vriska flinches, but breaks out into laughter immediately after.
“That's the end of this little game. Go to sleep. You have work in the morning." Terezi’s statements are brisk and stiff.
“Aw, how do you know that? Smelling my death, am I martyred by a customer or something?"
“No, that one was logic; you have to get money from somewhere,” Terezi responds.
"Whatever. Yeah, I'm going to sleep. Night, or whatever,” Vriska mumbles awkwardly.
"Good night, Vriska,” Terezi says. She turns her face over and places a warm little kiss onto Vriska’s forehead.
Vriska does not reciprocate the gesture, but she does close her eyes and melt into the feeling. It spreads through her body like flowing blood, leaving her warm and maybe just a little lighter.
